Ice Cream Man and such

Tom Waits and I have an odd kind of relationship. He seems to flit in and out of my life at times of great joy and depression (and on occasion when I least expect him to). Our first encounter, of sorts, was via my best friend Oscar squealing and grunting at me in the street "The piaaaaaaaano has beenn dah-rinkin not meeeeeeeee" no doubt breathing beer scented air in my face and perhaps belching. So where did we go from here? Well right now we're up to feeling melancholic and listening to 'I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You' from Closing Time but there was stuff that happened in between too.

From drunken, intoxicated teenage nights in Oscar's attic bedroom taking my first steps down the road of both Waits and Jeff Buckley (because they make an indisputably excellent team) me and Tom had some down time. We chilled out, did our things and enjoyed each other's presence sporadically until University. Not that we ignored one another but it was like that great friend you hardly ever see but when you do you have the greatest adventures imaginable and always mean to hang out more. The Beautiful South song 'Liar's Bar' always reminded me of Waits and it made me smile to see the odd drunken moment that reminded me of his influence stretching across drinking holes throughout the world.

Spending far too much time around disgruntled cantankerous men at University is a good way to really get into Waits. My friend George was one such and drinking triple dark rum from a pint glass lends itself well to growling at each other and discussing Real Gone's merits and downfalls whilst unable to stand. There's nothing like Theatre students discussing the influence of dadaism on the work of Waits and feeling far too profound for their own good.

On a balmy night in Glasgow with a madman on the roof and tinsle in your hair, drinking dead russians, you can do worse than listening to Ice Cream Man. When the madman quits the roof and hollars that song at you from his slumped position on the floor with a toy gun, you can't tell that he won't use his voodoo magic to twist your mind worse than a bullet. But you need to trust the sound, howl along, chug booze out of a chalice and engage in sword fights.

It's just a shame there's none of his songs on the jukebox...